What’s cooking this week?
Orange cardamom coffee cake
Sourdough sandwich bread
Sourdough country bread
Tart cherry granola
It’s breakfast all day at Cookout HQ! Our selection of baked breakfast treats can be enjoyed at any time, with any meal.
This week we are offering deliveries only! Give us 24 hours notice and we’ll deliver your order the next day. Breads and granola are $8 each, coffee cake is $5 per slice.
Diner Breakfast, Maria Ylvisaker, 2020
Kitchen Report
One could structure a memoir around memorable breakfasts. There’d be a chapter on diners, a chapter on holiday breakfasts, one on processed convenience foods, and on breakfast for dinner. I’d need to dedicate a chapter to breakfast breads. Memories of bread for breakfast run the gamut from the New York routine of a bodega buttered roll and small coffee to the journeys taken in pursuit of breads elevated to celebrity status. What are some special memories you have eating bread for breakfast? Here’s one of mine:
I spent a semester of college studying in Prague, where I lived across the street from a farmer’s market. The market ran every day from 6am. It was not the kind of market you stroll on a sunny Saturday, pick up some flowers, lie in the park. This was serious business. One must move swiftly, with spatial awareness, without hesitation. No dawdling! Czechs do not dawdle. It was essential to arrive early to get the best produce. No time for coffee at home, so the first market stand was the coffee queue, followed by the kolache queue. Remember, this was serious business--not a time to savor the warm kolache filled with fresh farmers cheese, poppy seeds, and apricot jam. Utilitarian, sustenance. Of course, I did savor the kolache, and suffered the requisite glares of the die-hards. But who am I kidding, I’m no die-hard, I’m a savorer.
Back in America, I discovered a community of kolache savorers throughout the Midwest, where I’d find kolaches at Sunday suppers, potlucks, festivals, and I’d hear KO-LAH-CHEE. And in New York at Brooklyn Kolache Co, representing the Texas Czech Belt, where, in true “Czexan” style, I snack on kolaches stuffed with sausage and cheese. When I can’t choose between the “Texas beef sausage” and the “Beef chili dog” (“Hmm, one of each?”), I suffer the requisite candid commentary from the queue forming behind me. New Yorkers do not dawdle.
Happy cooking,
Bryan